The Siren's Curse
by aushapasha
Summary: A crime. A curse. A beautiful siren compelled to kill. Bella's bloodlust won't be slaked until she's slain the entire lineage of the men who wronged her. Including the last Cullen. AU, Canon Couples
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey y'all! I just want to thank some lovely people. This would never be possible without my person, Kris and my ghost twin, Athena. I lava you! Secondly, major thanks to my beta's and prereaders: Sally, Krystel, BeLynda, and Carolina. Early thanks go to Mina as well. I have been enchanted by mermaids since I was a child...but I'm also drawn to the dark and morbid. I hope you enjoy!**

 **BPOV**

Marcus helps me from the carriage, and I cringe as I try to take a deep breath; this corset will be the death of me.

"Mind your face, Isabella. The look you want is demure," Marcus scolds as I take his arm, and we walk up to the entrance of the hall. He's right, of course. I'm here to fulfill my duty, and while I have some tools up my sleeve, the initial contact needs to be natural.

I lower my eyes and continue to follow where Marcus leads me. I hate this mountain of skirts, and the lace is beginning to itch. As much as I hate the place, I would rather be back home.

Marcus checks us in; he's acting as my chaperone tonight. Yesterday, after weeks of waiting, I finally felt _him_ near. After gossiping with some local girls, I found out who he is and where to find him. I am anxious ... I want to lay eyes on him. Not that it's necessary, but I want to size him up; really take him in.

Then, I feel it just as Marcus hands me a cup of punch. The clench in my belly, the sting in my heart. He catches the cup as I frantically search the room.

I zero in on a young man who has just entered the hall, pale yellow hair and fair skin. He isn't terribly tall or broad. Sadly, I have a feeling he'll be easy, just like the ones who came before him.

Moving into his line of sight, I send him a coy smile. Marcus snickers behind his hand as the arrogant boy makes his way directly toward us. He bows and introduces himself to Marcus, who then introduces me as his sister. The young man presses a wet kiss to the back of my hand. It takes all I have to keep my expression in line.

We dance for hours, and when we feel exhaustion sneaking in, he pulls me to a balcony for some fresh air. Being in Essex is nice. We're close enough to the coast that I can smell the salt in the air, and we can hear the soft lapping of the waves upon the sandy shore. The man is droning on about how he's taken over the family business and how important he is now. But when he mentions that all he wants to do is sail, I know I have my opening.

I tell him how much I wish to touch my bare feet in the cold water of the ocean; I lie about how I've never been on the shore. I bat my eyelashes and force a blush as he lifts my chin with his fingertips. I'm repulsed, and the rage is boiling in my belly as I look into his icy blue eyes.

He tells me how we can sneak out undetected and meet at the water. How he won't look as I strip off my stockings and lift my skirt to step into the water. So, we form our plan, and he disappears first. I walk slowly back inside and find Marcus. He's eager for me to be finished. This is his last job for Hera, and then he's free. I thank him for his help; after all, he fed me and kept a roof over my head while I waited. We part ways, and I make my way outside.

I find him waiting, casually leaning against the natural jetty that rests more than 200 paces from the house. I make my way to him and twirl my finger, motioning him to turn around. He obliges, and I quickly rip off the shoes and stockings. I hate them and want nothing more than to be free of all these trappings; however, I need to keep up appearances with this fool. I force a giggle, and he turns to watch me timidly make my way to the water.

What follows is one of my greatest roles to date—a carefree young girl having this experience for the first time. Laughing and shrieking as the cold water hits my skin. Then he moves to chase me, and I run. He doesn't know that I'm quick and agile. He doesn't know that I'm leading him to his end. I glance over my shoulder, and the rage sends him a sneer that's masked as a smile in the moonlight.

I pick up my pace slightly and run directly at the jetty. I know the power I have over him is blinding him to the danger he faces. When I'm close enough, I leap and land on top of the jetty with just enough time to turn and watch him slam into the jagged rocks.

I jump down onto the sand and lean over his unmoving body. His eyes are closed and his breathing is shallow, but he's still alive. I rip the dress from my body, and when I'm only covered in my corset and underskirts, I grab him under the shoulders and begin to drag him into the surf.

"Michael Anthony Newton," I begin, and I can hear the Irish lilt of my youth come out again. It has faded with time, but is always so strong in these moments. "Your grandfather committed a most heinous and violent crime." My voice was rough and raw, as I tasted the salt water that filled my lungs. We make it past the surf when the seaweed begins to wrap around him.

I feel the terrifying and familiar sensation of the rope coiling around my legs as they begin to fuse together. "He helped to bind my arms and legs, and he and the rest of those cowards hoisted me over the side of that ship." I could see him stirring, starting to come to. The seaweed bound him tightly as he gurgled blood and whispered, "Please! Don't hurt me!"

"Aye, you're scared, aren't you? So was I, but your grandfather was the captain and gave the order to throw me to my death."

I could feel the skirts deteriorating and my flesh flaking from my body. The current under me changes as the fish come to wait for their prize.

"I took his life and your father's… And now I've come for you. What do you have to say for yourself?" He sputters incoherently, "Please! Not me! I-"

"You're scared, aren't you Michael? So was I." I hiss at him as he continues to struggle against me, against the seaweed, against his fate.

"I won't tell anyone. Let me go and no one needs to know." His words echo in my head; I want to release him…

"Isabella! Everyone saw us together! They'll know it was you...they'll arrest you and hang you!" I find this interesting. He's changed tactics, choosing to threaten me. As if I was afraid of anything he could do to me. "I have a business, a fortune that would be lost without me. And-and my mother, she needs me too!"

"Nothing is worth more than a life, Michael, and trust me...no woman needs you." The seaweed tightens at my will. This is a foolish boys grasping at straws.

"I'll give you anything! Money, property...have mercy on me!" He begs and I like it. I like when they beg for their lives, just like I did. The rage was overwhelming at this point, completely taking me over.

"Mercy?!" I scream, my voice is warring with the sound of the sea. "Who showed me mercy when a crew member tried to violate me? Where was my mercy when I bound and gagged and thrown overboard? No, there will never be mercy."

I grasp his shoulders and push him under the water as he squirms and struggles, trying desperately to bring himself back to the surface. I bring him back up only to hear his pleas for his life. Disgusted, I shove him under again and hold him until he stills.

I let out a soft cry of a song, and schools of fish that have been waiting beneath me come and began picking away at his clothing, bit by bit, then his flesh. When the bones have been picked clean and the schools have disappeared, the seaweed tightens until his bones turn to dust. With a flick of my tail, I send the seaweed to the shore and watch with keen eyes as the dust mixes with the sea foam.

***********************************

I swim for days until I reach the sunken cave off the coast of Ireland that I call home. The guilt of the past days weighs heavily on me, just as it always does. This is nothing of the life I used to dream of. I was once a young girl, just 17 years old, and I was traveling by ship to the English colony in Xaymaca to work as a housemaid for the Governor.

But then a sailor decided he wanted more than I was willing to offer, unlike the other girls I was traveling with. So, they bound us all and threw us overboard. I struggled and fought against the bindings, but as I sank, I gave up hope.

That was when Hera came to me and breathed immortal life into my being. The salt water filled my lungs and ravaged my throat. My legs fused together and formed a tail to keep me moving.

" _Daughter, the men who have harmed you have broken my heart and shall not survive. Will you take up this oath and see that all of them meet their end?"_ I foolishly nodded my head. I was young and stupid then, and I had just been murdered. Had I realized at the time that I was being cursed, I may have reacted differently.

That was 162 years ago. Hera has cursed me to find every male who came from every bloodline on that ship. Some had died out just by having only girls born for generations. Some male children had died during birth or from disease. I even knew that some families were so fearful they had taken the lives of some of their sons. Those are the ones who break my heart the most.

I didn't want to kill anyone… But once I feel the trigger, the bloodlust sets in, and I can't see anything else. I can't change the path I'm on at that point.

Now that I'm home and the weight of my actions has fully caught up to me, I'm feeling exhausted. I sleep, and while I sleep, she comes to me in my dreams.

Hera.

It's how she's always communicated with me since the night I was tossed overboard. She tells me where to go and about her minions who will be waiting for me. They are the ones who help me and guide me in the time and place I wash up. They're indebted to Hera for one reason or another, and most of them either hate me, for whatever reason, or are just indifferent. This life that I now lead is lonely, quiet, and solitary.

For now, I rest and wait ... and pray that one day I'll be set free.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This wouldn't be possible without Athena, BeLynda, Kristina, Krystel, and Sally. Thank you! Also, to all of you that flooded my inbox with reviews, follows, and favorites...thank you! I'm not good at responding to reviews, but I read and loved every single one! One of you asked about a posting schedule. I could promise you the best schedule in the world...but I won't disappoint you like that. So...we'll have chapters when we have them. There's enough people who are in constant contact with me that will bug me about it; so they're on your side! That being said...I hope you enjoy. :)**

 **BPOV**

There is a knocking sound, and it's driving me crazy. It's so relentless; and of course there's the voice that accompanies it.

"Bella boo! Open the door!" His voice is deep and there's a playful undertone to it. However, I'm still in bed and have no desire to get up. But the pounding continues, and I know he'll keep at it until I let him in.

"Don't get your panties in a bunch!" I yell as I throw the covers off and stumble to the bathroom. I quickly make it through my morning routine and head to the front door. I open it slightly to find Emmett leaning against the wall across from my apartment.

"I thought we were gonna do like the hipsters and only contact each other through the Twitter and the Instagram?" I ask as he looks up and sends me a dazzling smile.

"We were ... but we need to talk." He pushes off the wall and walks to my doorway. "You know it's _just_ Twitter and Instagram, right?" He laughs as I move aside to let him in and shut the door. He sets the bag he's carrying down on the kitchen counter, and I snoop inside as he turns to the Keurig to make us each a cup of coffee.

I climb onto one of the bar stools I have at the counter and pull the bagels and cream cheese out of the bag. "So, what's up, Emmett?" He stares at me, inhales deeply, and lets his breath out in a quick whoosh. It makes me uncomfortable; he's never like this. In all the years we've been together, he's always blunt and to the point.

"Why are we still here?" he asks suddenly, and I see the confusion, worry, and ... anger in his eyes. I take my own deep breath; we've never really discussed this, but I have a theory, and I've been doing my research.

"Are you accusing me or asking?" I ask as I get up to get a knife for the bagels. I hear him set my coffee on the counter and mumble under his breath. "Pardon?"

"I'm not accusing you; of course, I'm not," he says as he grabs his own cup, "But three years, Bella! We've been waiting three years!" He's frustrated, and I understand. I am, too.

"I know how long it's been. I just ... I'm not sure I can say anything about it." I sigh and take a bite of my bagel. "I mean, _she_ can hear us all the time, right?" I shrug as Emmett laughs at me.

"She's not _here_ at the moment. As I understand, she had some business to attend to back on the mountain." Emmett says, and it occurs to me …

"Can you contact her? I mean, can you speak to Hera directly?" I'm trying not to get angry because I can easily overpower Emmett if I want to, and I might want to.

"Are you gonna hit me?" he asks with a smile. "Yes, of course, I can contact her. We're actually meeting in about a week for—"

"For our anniversary," I finish and he nods. Six days from now is the day I was thrown overboard, over 300 years ago, and it's, coincidentally, the day I washed up here in southern California three years ago. "I want to go with you."

The surprise on his face is unexpected. "That was the last thing I expected to hear. You want to meet her and what? Accuse her?"

I sighed and looked down at my half-eaten bagel. "Yes, I'm going to accuse her." I move to stand and begin to pace. "Emmett, I've been tracing all the bloodlines from that ship, _my ship_. They're all wiped out. I can't find traces of any of them anymore."

He stares at me but doesn't speak.

"There are deaths I can't remember. You know I've told you how I tell them who they were related to and what they did to me? It's like as soon as I get them in the water ... nothing. Complete blackout." I sit back down and push the plate away.

The centuries haven't alleviated the pain and guilt I feel after every life I take. The times I came to and realized what I had done had always shaken me to the core. Two hundred lives for the families of the men who were on that ship and killed me, and thousands of others who perished because Hera was playing me. I was certain of it.

"Is this why you started doing genealogies? You've been working on this for how long now?" Emmett asks and wakes me from my thoughts.

"Fifteen years. I've been searching for fifteen years, Emmett. Every death I remember and everyone that I can't. It's why I asked you to bring me the obituaries, and why I have a storage unit. It's full of documents, newspaper clippings, and, basically, anything to help me prove my point." I look up to him and see the pride on his face.

"You know she might just kill you for even bringing it up. Maybe something worse," he says as he takes my hands in his.

"I don't care, Emmett. Kill me or curse me further, it doesn't matter. Hera won't play me anymore."

Emmett and I make plans to get together by the end of the week to finalize our plan. I know he is right to be worried; challenging a god is dangerous, but I was determined. I was tired of being stuck in this immortal limbo and being used as a pawn.

What I hadn't told Emmett was I'd been feeling twinges of my trigger for months now. I couldn't pinpoint where _he_ was, but he had to be close. I'd be out somewhere and feel it, and then I would search the area trying to feel it again, but I always turned up empty-handed. Even when I took a life that I couldn't remember, I felt the trigger, so I was hesitant to focus this time. I wasn't sure if it was one of mine or if it was Hera's doing.

Until I get that figured it out, it will be business as usual.

Which is great since I have a consultation this afternoon, and it will serve as a great distraction. This particular client had wanted to meet about six months ago, but for a multitude of reasons, we each had to keep rescheduling. Today, we finally get to meet, and I am especially excited because he had mentioned his family originated in Ireland very near where I was born.

I often met people and worked on genealogies for them, only to have found that their ancestors were from Ireland, but they came from much more populated areas, or I couldn't trace as far back due to lack of records or dead ends.

This potential client of mine is something of a mystery to me. He doesn't seem to have any social media accounts, or he has his privacy settings set up up to make him invisible. Either way, it is interesting.

I set off down the street to the coffee shop where we were to meet. It is a beautiful day, and I am reveling in the sunshine when I hear my phone chirp from inside my bag. I retrieve it to find a text from my client.

 _I'm here already! Can I get you something to drink?_

I sent my assurances that I will be there in a few moments and I'd love a black tea. I stash my phone, and a few blocks later, I am walking into a cute shop very close to the beach. I live in the area, just a few blocks from the water, and choose to stay as close as possible.

Taking a glance around, I suddenly realize I have no idea what this guy looks like; I only have his name. There is a twosome to my left who are very wrapped up in each other. There is a woman at the counter who is being extremely rude by continuing to talk on her phone while ordering. I roll my eyes and saw a lone man sitting toward the back with a laptop open in front of him.

I walk over, and when he looks up, I smile. "Hi, I'm Isabella." I see the confusion as soon as the words leave my mouth. After a quick apology, I turn around and feel at a loss. That's when I notice a man sitting outside under an umbrella.

I walk outside and stop short in my tracks. This has to be the single most attractive man I've ever laid eyes on. He has fair skin that seems to be tinted pink, probably from spending too much time in the sun without sunscreen. He is wearing khaki shorts and a blue shirt that is taut across his chest. He seems to be a slender man, but has muscle stashed away. I can't gauge his height since he is sitting, but I estimate him to tower over me, based on his long legs. His hair has caught the sun and is unnaturally bronze or copper; it isn't brown or red or even auburn, but a strange combination of all of them.

What really gets me is his smile—broad and directed at nothing in particular. It is accentuated by his incredibly high cheekbones, strong jawline, and a straight nose. The amalgam of it all causes a reaction in me that I have never experienced before.

I'm suddenly terribly nervous, with slightly damp palms that I rub on my jeans. There is something incredibly familiar about him, but I know I'd never met him before. I'm so anxious to find out if he is the client I am supposed to meet. No man, or woman for that matter, has ever had an effect on me like this; I need to know him.

He looked up at me suddenly, and his smile widens. "Isabella?" he asks as he stands, and I walk toward the table. I can feel the heat in my face, and I can't tell if it is from the sun or my blush. I reach out to shake his hand.

"Please, call me Bella," I say as he grasps my hand ... and then I felt it.

That familiar twinge in my gut ... or is it butterflies at having made contact with him? Is it the clench in my belly and sting in my heart that signals my target? Or am I just experiencing a biological attraction for the first time?

He grips my hand a little tighter. "I'm Edward Cullen."


	3. Chapter 3

**BPOV**

" _Charlotte, my seams are crooked," I whined as the girl standing next to me rolled her eyes and crouched behind me._

" _Golly, Isabella! Are you evah gonna get these right?" she teases me as she helps to straighten the seams on my pantyhose as best as possible._

 _Charlotte is a pretty girl with pale yellow hair and porcelain skin. Her green eyes shine with laughter as she stands and fluffs her hair._

 _She's just his type._

" _You got plans tonight?" I look briefly at her reflection in the mirror we share in the back room of the club, and I notice she falters slightly as she's reapplying her rouge. She grabs a tissue and wipes off her fingers before answering me._

" _Garrett gave me the icy mitt!" she cries suddenly, but I don't see any actual tears. She's a bit dramatic, and I wonder if that's the reason why he got rid of her. I jump up and begin to console her. I need information, and Charlotte can give it to me. She's such a Dumb Dora, but she can repeat things like a parrot._

 _She tells me about how he took her out a couple nights ago after he closed down the club. How he tried to get her into the back seat of his Buick. Charlotte might be an idiot, but she isn't loose. She tells me about how he tried to force her, and she tried to fight back, clawing, scratching, and kicking._

 _She tells me how she covered the shiner on her face, and how he dumped her on the side of the road, and she had to walk four miles home. Everything about this sounds like what the other girls said, at least the ones who would speak to me and the ones who hadn't disappeared._

 _Garrett ran the biggest speakeasy out here on Coney Island. He opened it ten months ago and had gone through three times as many cigarette girls in that time. He had mob ties and a short temper when it came to girls._

 _He was disgusting, and when I passed him on the boardwalk a few weeks ago, I felt it instantly._

 _He was the one._

 _Emmett worked at the club with me and disagreed that Garrett could be the one. I think he sort of idolized him for his entrepreneurial spirit; he'd learn._

 _I left Charlotte to clean up, grabbed my tray, and went to the bar. Emmett was there polishing glasses and cringed when he saw me coming._

" _Aw, hell, Isabella. What's that look for?" he asked as he set down the glass and rag. He began handing me things for my tray._

" _He knocked Charlotte around the other night," I say quietly and organize the cigars, cigarettes, and chewing tobacco on my tray, along with candies and mints._

 _I heard his sigh, and when I looked back up, he had set his lips into a thin line. Emmett may have thought Garrett was all right, but he would never approve of harming women; it just wasn't in his nature._

" _What are you going to do? You aren't his type," Emmett reminds me, and I shake my head._

" _I'll have to make myself his type."_

Hera _, in her infinite wisdom and power, had imbued me with certain ... charms to use at my disposal to carry out my work—if you could even call it that, but the fact remained … if I needed to be blonde, I could make myself appear blonde. If I needed doe eyes, or more ample cleavage, taller or shorter, you name it, and I can do it._

 _The next time Garrett saw me, I'd be exactly what he was looking for._

 _Hours later, my feet were killing me, and I had to remove several hands from my backside. I'd been acting coy with him, and he seemed to be eating it up. He was paying more attention to me than any of the other girls, and Emmett had told me at one point that Garrett had asked about me._

 _I expected him to ask me out after we closed the club; turns out, I didn't have to wait that long._

" _I can't seem to figure you out, Isabella," Garrett says as he leans against the bar as I refill my tray. "You're such a doll; how'd you end up here?"_

" _A girl's gotta make a living, right?" I ask with a shrug, "You were looking for pretty girls. I didn't think I'd get the job, but here I am."_

" _Well, it's not like you were a ragamuffin. You're bona fide, Isabella." He tells me this as he sidles up closer to me at the bar. He gently grabs my wrist and brings my hand to his mouth where he presses a kiss against my palm._

" _Whaddya say we get out of here and get a bite?" he asks, and I try not to show the discomfort I'm feeling._

 _It's been so long since I've felt afraid, but I'm feeling it right now. The girls who hadn't disappeared came back with broken bones, black eyes, and bruises. Then there were the girls who just never came back. Who really knows what happened to them._

" _I have to work, boss man. Why don't you come find me later?" I offer as I move to walk away. I need to collect myself. The evil absolutely rolls off him in waves._

" _Go change now. You're done for tonight," Garrett says with a finality that I don't dare question._

 _I nod and deposit my tray with Emmett, who looks concerned. We're playing brother and sister these days, so I take a moment to fill him in._

" _If I'm not back by dawn, look for me. He can't kill me, but he can hurt me," I whisper as I kiss his cheek and run to the back to change. Emmett and I have been together for a couple turns now, but we're still not entirely comfortable with each other. I can only hope he looks out for me tonight._

 _My hands are shaking, and I tear my stockings as I take them off. I sit and wipe off a majority of the makeup I'm wearing and reapply some rouge and finger-comb my hair. When I'm out of my costume and in my skirt and blouse, I head back out to the hallway that will lead me to the floor of the club. I stop in my tracks when I see Garrett waiting for me._

" _We'll sneak out the back," he says and grabs my hand to drag me out of the back door._

 _It's late and the air is humid. We're walking down the boardwalk, and Garrett is bragging about how the feds haven't found out about his operation, how smart he is, and how he never lets anyone tell him no._

 _I know the fear I'm feeling is unfounded. I'm stronger and faster than him, but my gut tells me I'm no match for him. I know I'm in trouble when Garrett leads me down a dark alley._

" _You're real pretty, Isabella," he says as he backs me against the wall. "You're quiet too; I like that the most." His breath is hot, and I can smell the whiskey he drank earlier at the club._

 _His hands rub up my arms, and he cups my cheeks as he leans in to press his lips to mine._

 _This is the part I can't play. It brings me back to the ship, to that sailor … It brings me back to my death and rebirth._

 _I squirm and struggle against him as he roughly slams me against the wall in that darkened alley. One hand has my wrists locked above my head while the other searches for the hem of my skirt and the prize he wants underneath it._

 _A strangled scream escapes me and he sneers."I thought you were quiet, Isabella. If you don't shut your mouth, I'll have to shut it for you," he whispers in my ear, but it's forceful and mean._

" _Let me go, Garrett! I don't want this!" I yell and struggle against him. He backs away slightly, and I feel as if somehow I've gotten through to him._

 _But then I see his hand come up, and I feel the sharp sting of the slap across my face._

I wake drenched in a pool of sweat. I'm panting like a dog in summer, but I'm cold and shivering. I sit up cautiously and swing my legs over the side of my bed.

I'm safe. I'm in my own apartment. The dream was just a memory from ninety years ago.

I find my feet, walk to my bathroom, and take a good look in the mirror. I've got dark circles under my eyes, and my hair is half matted to my face and half like a wild bird's nest. I turn on the shower and strip. I grab my toothbrush and get inside. The hot water is soothing, and I feel like my muscles are screaming out their relief.

I've had the dreams before, but not like this. Garrett was my first victim who wasn't a descendant from the ship, and the first kill I couldn't remember.

Emmett had found me bloody and bruised on the beach, but Garrett was nowhere to be found. I always just assumed he met the same fate as the rest of them, but somehow, Emmett knew that all the blood on my body wasn't just from me. I never figured out what happened, but Emmett told me a few months later that a body roughly matching his description turned up.

It had been mutilated; the teeth had been removed violently, and the fingertips looked as if they had been chewed off. The skin had been hacked into, but they couldn't determine the type of weapon. However, the most gruesome discovery had been his penis stuffed inside his mouth.

Emmett asked me what had happened, and I told him everything I could remember. I just couldn't remember if he had raped me. I didn't remember killing him. After he slapped me … there was nothing.

I shake my head and wash away the sweat and focus on brushing my teeth. I needed a clear head; Emmett and I were going to nail down our plan for when we meet with Hera. I hadn't spoken to Emmett for a few days, and I was surprised not to find him in my apartment when I exited my room after getting dressed.

I went to the small dining table and looked over my paperwork and research for my newest client.

I shudder as I feel the twinge again.

Edward Cullen.

I feel the smile creep onto my face before I can stop it. He was so damn charming, and even after four hours spent together, I wanted more. He'd asked if I wanted to have dinner with him, but I declined. I couldn't get my emotions in check, and I still couldn't … still can't determine if he's my next victim or something different.

I check my phone and see that Emmett has messaged me. He needs to meet later than we had planned, and that's fine with me. I need air and space. I grab my things and head for the door. A walk to clear my head and maybe a trip to the grocery store so I can make dinner tonight and I should feel right as rain.

The day is warm already, and I bask in the heat. I'm still feeling chilled from the nightmare, but I can see that I've made the right choice to get outside for a while. Birds are singing and I can almost hear the crash of the waves from a few blocks away. I contemplate heading to the water but think better of it. If I go, I'll end up there all day, and I don't have time for that now. There's a pull, as if I could hear the ocean calling out for me, begging me to return... but not today. After Hera. After redefining our terms. Maybe then I'll return to the sea for a while.

I stopped into a café for a cup of coffee as I wander around this little seaside town. It's mostly a party town; students from the few local colleges come here all nights during the week, and especially on the weekends, to drink in the many bars and party. I'm glad I live far enough from the main drag not to have to deal with the twenty-somethings, even though I can fit right in.

They're too loud and reckless for my taste, and watching their walks of shame has become a favorite pastime of mine.

I see a man crossing the street and notice his slacks are wrinkled, and so is the polo shirt he's wearing, like it had all been in a pile on the floor. I notice the skip in his step and think he must have gotten lucky. It's then that I notice his hair that's not quite brown and not quite red. Hair that is reaching up and out in all different directions.

He passes a woman who is walking her bulldog, and he flashes her a smile.

Suddenly, my palms are clammy and my throat is dry. Edward Cullen, who may or may not be doing a walk of shame, is here … in my neighborhood. Suddenly, the twinge in my gut feels like a punch, and I have to know if he's leaving someone's house or if he's just a slob.

Before I realize what I'm doing, I start to follow him down the street. I'm crossing my fingers and hoping he won't turn around and recognize me as I stalk him. Isn't that what I'm doing? I mean, I turned him down when he asked me out, yet here I am!

Edward is easily twenty feet ahead of me when he walks into a Starbucks, and of course, I follow him, dumping the perfectly good cup of coffee I have in the trash. He orders and the next thing I know, I'm standing in front of a perky barista.

"Hi! What can I get started for you?" she asks with a squeaky voice.

"Um, a tall iced white mocha with no whip cream."

She asks for a name and payment, and I'm trying to keep my voice down and not draw attention to myself when I hear my name called.

"Bella?" Edward is looking at me, and it takes me a moment to respond because I'm lost in the green of his eyes, and my heart has lurched into my throat.

"Edward, hi. Funny running into you here," I say with a strangled laugh.

He throws up a finger, signaling me to give him a minute as his name is called and he picks up his drink. He comes back over and winks as he takes a sip.

"So, am I in your neighborhood or are you in mine?" he asks casually, and I smile because I think he's flirting.

"Technically, I'm only a few blocks from where I live, so …" I trail off, waiting for him to tell me that he also lives in the area. The barista calls my name, and I grab my drink as Edward gestures to a table.

We sit and nurse our drinks as Edward tells me about moving into a new apartment right on the beach and not having all of his stuff because the moving truck broke down halfway through the trip.

"So, I've got to go buy some clothes to get me through a couple more days, and maybe a coffee maker," he tells me as he tips his cup back and takes a drink. "Actually, I need to basically furnish my whole apartment."

"Oh ... I could help you," I say and wince because I'm sure I sound way too eager. "I mean, obviously, you can do it on your own, but wouldn't it be nice to do the mundane with another person?"

"That would be fantastic! I do like having another person's opinions too. I'd love to go today, if you're free, but I need to do laundry so I don't recycle my clothes again." He laughs and my heart lurches.

 _What the hell?_

"I have a washer and dryer at my place, if you want to use them. That way we can just go and get you started." In that moment, I panic. I never invite anyone over; not that I haven't had the opportunity, I suppose. I just don't have any friends aside from Emmett. I'm mentally making a list of all the things I'd need to hide if Edward does step foot into my space.

"I couldn't impose there, but I appreciate it. I'll tell you what; I've got some workout clothes that are clean. I could run home, put those on, and come pick you up," he says as he stands, even though I haven't agreed to anything yet. "I'll grab us an Uber."

"I have a car. I'll go home and pick you up here in 20?" I stand and we both dump our empty cups into the trash.

"Deal. See you shortly."

I plop back down in my chair and shake my head.

 _What am I doing?_

Seventeen minutes later, I'm idling in the loading zone waiting for Edward. I had rushed back to my place and brushed my hair, and teeth, and slapped on some mascara.

I spot Edward and beep my horn so he sees where I am. I'm sure I'm drooling a little. He's in black athletic shorts and another blue shirt that seems to be pulled taut against his chest. He gets in the car, we grin at each other, and I take off.

A few hours later, we're both pushing full Target shopping carts, and I'm watching him finally compare coffee makers. We've been talking all day, but I have more questions.

"So, Edward?"

"Hmmm?" He's still reading the features on a huge Keurig box and doesn't look my way.

"What made you decide to up and move here from Chicago?" I'm naturally curious, and this is something I feel like he's danced around all afternoon.

I watch closely as he straightens up and heaves the box into his cart. I can see he's collecting his thoughts, and I immediately wonder if he's going to lie to me. I mean, I guess I won't be able to tell; it's not an ability I possess.

"Have you ever gotten an urge to do something, and even though you weren't sure where it came from, you just _knew_ you had to follow it?" He's looking at me now, his green eyes locked with my hazel eyes.

If only he knew.

"Yes, I have." Here's where I can be real for just a second. "It's almost like you hear something in your head and your heart at the same moment you feel it in your gut."

"YES!" A woman passing by the aisle we're occupying looks startled, but she moves on. "Yes, that's exactly the feeling I had eighteen months ago." He begins to move out of the way because people are trying to get around us.

"So, _something_ urged you to leave home?"

"Not just leave Chicago to come to California, but here specifically. I got the apartment near the beach because I felt like that was right too." On a sigh, he looks a little wistful. "I miss Chicago—don't get me wrong ... but being here feels so right."

"I understand that. I came here three years ago because I knew I had to." He didn't need to know that I had to come here to kill someone; that's beside the point right now. "Was it hard for you to leave?"

"Yes and no. I mean, I had a girlfriend, but she didn't want to move, and then there was this in-depth analysis of our relationship and how I'd been checked out for so long. So we broke up, and then I found out she was already seeing some guy." He looks down as if he's checking for something in his cart, but I know what's up. I get it, kind of.

"How long were you two together?" It's useful information, and I feel like he needs to talk about it some more.

"Two and a half years. She said I was checked out for the last year or so though." The expression on his face is one of remorse.

I'm choosing my words carefully when my phone rings. "I'm sorry. I thought it was on silent." I reach in my bag and pull it out. "I need to answer this. Do you mind?" Edward shakes his head as I answer. "Hey, Emmett."

" _Hey, babe! What time did you want me to come over?"_ I cringe as I remember our plans.

"Right because we're having dinner tonight." I glance down at my watch. "How about 6:30? That'll give me plenty of time to figure out what to make."

" _Did you forget about me?"_ Emmett asks with a laugh.

"Sort of. Sorry. Hey, why don't you just pick up a few pizzas, and I'll get that IPA you like?"

Emmett agrees, and I end the call.

"Sorry about that. My friend Emmett and I had plans tonight, and I kinda forgot." Edward nods with a grin.

"Who's Emmett?" he asks with a smile as we head to the checkout lanes.

"How do I describe Emmett?" I laugh., "He's kind of like my father, brother, chaperone, and best friend rolled into one."

"How long have you known each other?" We're loading his items onto the belt and the cashier looks over and shuts off her light.

"It feels like several lifetimes."

After Edward pays, we head back to my car and laugh as we try to fit everything in the Mini. Obviously, this car isn't made for huge shopping sprees.

"I really appreciate your company today. I find this sort of thing really tedious." We're buckled in, and I'm pulling out of the parking lot and heading to the freeway. "I was going to ask you to have dinner with me, but you already have plans."

"Well, Emmett and I are, um ... working on a big project together."

"Do you two often work on 'big projects' together?" His hands go up to use finger quotes and I laugh.

"If you're subtly trying in inquire as to whether Emmett and I are any closer than friends, you're failing." I laugh again and Edward joins in. "Emmett is like my gay best friend ... except he isn't gay."

Edward nods, and we're both silent as I navigate the freeway exit and streets to get back to his apartment. After I help him unload and carry everything in, we're standing on the curb. I don't want the time together to be over.

"Thanks again, Bella. I really do appreciate it," Edward says as he runs a hand through his hair. It looks so silky, and I want to reach out and touch it.

"You're welcome." I'm nervous and I hate this. "You know, just because I have dinner plans tonight doesn't mean I have plans tomorrow." I look up at him, and he's grinning.

"Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night?" He reaches out and grabs one of my hands and gives it a light squeeze.

"It's a date."

 **A/N: I'd like to apologize for the lateness of this chapter. My mental health got the best of me the last few months and I couldn't cope. In my defense...I never set a schedule. My many thanks to Sally, Krystel, BeLynda, Kris, Kris, and Athena. All of you in the Houston area continue to be in my thoughts, along with those of you in Irma's path. Be safe.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you all for your patience! The last 2 years have been such a struggle! I just want you to know that I appreciate all of you and your love and support! This chapter would not be possible without the help from Athena (bandeforever16), Kris (mkystich), Kristina (LyricalKris), and Sally (Alice's White Rabbit). And some love goes to LayAtHomeMom and TrinaSmusicPatterson for calling me out at TFMU...in a totally loving way! I hope you all enjoy!**

I nudge one of the three empty pizza boxes with my foot to make more room to prop my feet up on my coffee table. Emmett looks over the progress I've made on Edward's genealogy and keeps quiet. My eyes are drooping and I know I should sit up and try to wake up some. After a day of shopping and then devouring almost a whole pizza by myself, it has made me realize how sleepy I was.

"So this guy you're working for is also the same guy who you went shopping with today." Emmett glances at me with mock sadness on his face. "The guy who made you forget about me … and he's taking you out tomorrow night. Did I get all that right?"

I roll my eyes, "Yes, although did I really forget about you? I did answer my phone." He's still staring, and under the scrutiny, I can't keep it to myself anymore. I told Emmett about how I was drawn to Edward and how I couldn't tell if the sensation was because he was a target or because of natural attraction.

Emmett just looks at me for a moment, and then starts pacing. I can't read him; he's showing no emotion on his face, and he isn't speaking to me. In this moment, I realize he's mad at me … or worse—he's hurt that I haven't confided in him yet.

"Bella," he says and just stares at me. I can see it now, clear as day. The hurt is agony to me; Emmett is my best friend and closest confidant.

"I need to go," he says simply and grabs his keys off the kitchen counter and heads to the door. "I'll call you in a few days." Then he's gone.

I'm not sure how long I sit there, staring at my front door, or how many times I berate myself for being such a shitty friend. Eventually, I pick myself up and throw away the trash from our pig out and stick what's left of one of the pizzas in my fridge.

I screwed up, and the only thing I could do now was to wait for Emmett to call me so I can apologize, and we can move on.

I putter around the apartment for a bit, straightening up and aimlessly touching my knick-knacks until I decide to give in and flop onto the couch and turn on the television. I channel surf for a bit until I stumble upon a favorite movie of mine and let myself get lost in the plot.

My phone buzzed from inside my pocket, startling me, and I pulled it out quickly, hoping it would be Emmett. I'm only slightly ashamed to say that I wasn't at all disappointed to see Edward's name on my display.

 **Edward: I don't want to bug you while you're with Emmett, but I'm just wondering if you like seafood?**

 **Bella: I love seafood!**

 **Bella: And Emmett left, so no worries.**

 **Edward: Oh, good. You aren't some weird person who doesn't like seafood!**

 **Edward: It seems early for him to have left already.**

I sigh and don't respond. I stretch and consider my options. I could tell him anything or nothing. The fact that I'm going to see him tomorrow night just means he's going to bring it up again; Edward strikes me as that type of person. After the way I explained my relationship with Emmett, he's going to want to make sure we're all right.

I lie all the time … to everyone. It comes with the territory. It's not that I set out to do it, but I do it in order to keep people at bay and uninterested. That way, when I disappear, no one cares. But … I lie all the time; it's eating at me.

My phone buzzes again, and I snatch it up to see Edward's name again.

 **Edward: I'm sorry. It's none of my business.**

I sigh; it really isn't.

 **Bella: We fought about work stuff. Miscommunication.**

 **Edward: Communication is key in any relationship, Bella.**

 **Bella: I'm well aware. I'll give him some time to cool down, and hopefully, we can move forward.**

 **Bella: So, seafood?**

 **Edward: Yeah. I got a recommendation from someone at work. How's seven work? I can pick you up.**

Our plans are set, and while I'm excited, I'm preoccupied with Emmett.

If I'm being completely honest, I'm not sure why he was so hurt. Was it because I wasn't sure who or what Edward was? Did he feel like I was lying to him?

I have never lied to Emmet. I had no reason to. We both knew what was going on and what was expected of us.

So why do I feel like a jerk?

I sleep like hell and seriously consider cancelling on Edward for the majority of the day. I'm putting mascara on at five minutes to seven and still contemplating calling and telling him I can't go tonight when I hear a car horn from the street below.

I walk over to my living room window and look down to find Edward leaning out of the back window of what I assume is an Uber. He gestures for me to come down, and I find myself smiling at him before I even know what I'm doing.

I grab my bag, lock up, and get down the stairs and into the car.

We grin at each other and the driver takes off. There's something in the air; it's swirling around us, and by the time we make it downtown and get dropped off in front of the little restaurant, my skin is buzzing and my blood is boiling.

There's a cool breeze blowing, and I take the time that Edward is rating the ride to try and cool down.

This feels more like the curse, and I'm scared.

I don't want this.

I want to be a normal woman.

I want to just be on a date.

I take a chance and turn to Edward and look into his eyes. I'm trying to see if I can figure this out. If he's my target, then I want to finish this. I can woo him, lure him, and kill him.

Then go to Hera and plead my case to be done.

When I look into his eyes, eyes that aren't green or blue but a glowing mix of sea colors, I'm suddenly lost.

"Hey, what's wrong?" He reaches out and grabs my shoulders, "Are you feeling all right?"

I nod and realize that my heart has leapt up into my throat. I try to clear it, but my voice still cracks a little.

"I just need to try something," I say and wrap my arms around his waist and pull myself closer to him.

His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn't pull away from me.

I lean in and press my lips to his. They're warm and not too soft, but I don't feel much of anything.

Until he suddenly deepens the kiss, and my mind is thrown into a vision of the night of my death.

A very young sailor with copper-colored hair and a strong jawline is yelling for the others to spare us and let us all go.

He's struggling against men twice his size and putting up a heroic fight.

I'm lifted up, and as I go over, it looks like he does also.

As Edward slips his tongue into my mouth one more time, I hear Hera's voice echo through my mind.

 _You've found him. The very last one._

No!

Whoever Edward's ancestor was, he tried to save me.

He can't possibly be the next target. I won't believe it. I feel the panic start to rise, and I pull away.

I'm breathless, but so is Edward. He smiles at me, and I try to return it. I'm pretty sure I convince him. I am a liar after all.

He moves to the door of the restaurant, and I follow silently.

After we're seated, I excuse myself to the restroom and have a mild panic attack in the stall. I text Emmett, but I know he won't respond because he's pissed off at me.

Nothing makes sense right now. If that sailor died, how is Edward sitting at the table waiting for me?

The urge to flee is so strong right now, but more than anything, I want to know as much as I can about Edward Cullen.

I splash water on my face and move to leave the restroom when my phone buzzes.

 **Emmett: Hera says she'll grant you an audience.**

 **Emmett: Are you all right? I can come get you.**

Even with our fight last night, Emmett knows. Usually, when I find my mark, the bloodlust sets in automatically. It can be dangerous for the innocent bystanders, obviously, but in this day and age, I have to be aware of people seeing something and filming me and posting it online somewhere.

 **Bella: Threat level: Green. I can feel a buzz ... but it's like it's barely there.**

 **Emmett: I'll be nearby.**

He has this ability to know where I am at all times. When Emmett and I first met, I hated it. I still hate it, but right now, I'll take it.

I drag myself out of the restroom and make my way to the table where Edward is sitting. He looks up from his menu and smiles at me as I sit down.

"Hey, are you sure you're all right?" he asks as I take a sip from the water glass at my seat. "You look a little pale."

I nod as I set the glass down. "I didn't get a lot of sleep last night. So, I'm just a little tired, but I'm fine."

This place is the casual type where the tables were covered with paper. Dinner came in a plastic bag—a mess of crab, shrimp, crawfish, corn, sausage, and potatoes swimming in butter, garlic, and Cajun seasoning.

Silverware was strongly discouraged.

We were trying to make small talk while attacking our food.

"What do you do for a living?" I ask as I watch Edward suck a crawfish head.

"I work for the government actually." He smirks a little as I feel my jaw drop slightly. "I'm not a mindless drone."

"What do you do?" I'm using every wet wipe the server has left to clean my hands, but I know they'll smell like garlic for a few days.

"I'm a civilian instructor for the Navy. I teach sailors how to use and maintain equipment on their ships," he says with a shrug, like it's no big deal. Maybe it isn't to him.

"Were you in the Navy?" I'm trying for casual, and since he doesn't look alarmed, I decide I pull it off well.

"No, I wrote the program software and just got lucky with the job. The job opened up here in San Diego, and I sat on it for a long time." He sets down yet another tiny crawfish corpse and looks up at me. "Then I got that feeling, the one we were talking about last night. I just knew it was the right time." He grins and I get a flutter in my stomach.

That feeling is always with me, lurking under the surface.

I can feel it clawing at me, trying to release the monster inside of me.

I hate it. I'm not a monster. I never was. Hera made me this way.

 _I saved you. They tried to violate you. They tried to kill you._

I shake her voice away and try to focus on Edward.

"I only ask because I think I may have found an ancestor of yours who was on a sailing ship more than 150 years ago," I say as I take a sip from my water. "That's why I wondered if there was a history there."

Edward frowns a little, and it takes him more than a moment to respond.

"Bella, that's really interesting, but this"—he gestures around to the restaurant and we both smile as we take in the fake fishing nets and plastic crabs hanging on the walls, the small piles of crustacean shells on our table—"is a date. If you want to talk about the genealogy you're doing for me, let's set up a separate time to do that."

"Point taken," I tell him and excuse myself to the restroom again. This time, I just wash my hands as thoroughly as possible and only take a small moment to breathe through a panic attack.

 _Get it together. He can't see you like this._

I exit the restroom to find him coming out of the men's restroom, and he tells me he's taken care of the check, and we should get out of this place.

Downtown San Diego is starting to come to life, and I suggest walking down to Seaport Village for ice cream and a walk along the embarcadero.

Edward catches my hand as we run across the street before the crosswalk timer runs out, and I grip him tightly.

"That's a little hard," Edward says as he flexes his hand within mine. I relax my hold and smile.

The siren is building inside of me. This would be the perfect opportunity to take him, isolate him.

 _KILL HIM._

"Sorry," I chuckle and give his hand a playful squeeze. "I don't know my own strength sometimes."

We make our way down to the tourist trap with small, overpriced gift shops and restaurants. Maritime decorations are scattered everywhere, and when we pass an art gallery that is closing up shop for the day, Edward stops us.

"Isn't it gorgeous?" he asks, and it takes me several moments to figure out what he's focused on.

There are sculptures of dolphin pairs leaping out of the water and a group of sea turtles twisting about in an infinity pattern.

Finally, I see it. Nestled off to the side, almost as if it's hiding.

A mermaid with a shimmering rainbow tail in a graceful dive, one arm outstretched in front of her. Her mane of hair billowing around her and a look of sheer determination on her face.

"It is beautiful." I find myself sighing as I stare at the creature. "I have a collection of mermaid art; well, anything mermaid really."

"Seriously?" Edward asks as I Iead him away and steal one more glance over my shoulder.

"Oh, yeah. I have a really kitschy set of salt and pepper shakers and oven mitts." I laugh as we hit the Ben and Jerry's stand. "If it's got a mermaid on it, I usually buy it."

"Well, that's a handy tidbit to know," Edward says as we make our way down the embarcadero, past the tiny fishing boats, the giant USS Midway Museum, and past a few buskers hustling for money.

Our cones are gone, and we're leaning on some railing looking out on the residential sailboats and enjoying the lights from the city on the water.

"I've had a really nice time tonight," Edward says as he drapes his arm around my shoulders.

I feel myself grin, and the only thing I feel right now are soft butterflies of lust and desire in my belly.

There's no darkness or hate anywhere … and I revel in it.

"You're good company," I tell him and bump his hip gently with mine.

He offers to call for an Uber, and we start to walk toward the pickup point.

Edward's playing with my fingertips, and I'm giggling lightly, and it feels like a Netflix rom-com.

Then the night comes crashing around me. I hear footsteps approaching, and I'm immediately on guard.

I know the scent of the being near us.

"Bella? Is that you?" The friendly voice catches me off guard; it sounds forced and slightly strained.

"Oh, Emmett!" I drag Edward closer to my side, just slightly.

"Edward, this is Emmett." I introduce the two men and stare at Emmett until he clears his throat.

"I was just out on a date. How weird is this?" he says with a forced laugh. Edward laughs with him and doesn't notice anything, but I can see and hear and feel everything Emmett isn't telling me.

"It's nice to finally put a face to the name," Edward says and then looks around. "Where's your date?"

I continue to stare at Emmett. He dates, but I have never had to meet one of his girls.

We are weirdly close; anyone who spends enough time around us sees that something isn't natural between us.

So we don't do this whole "meet my current squeeze" bullshit.

Heels click clack toward us, and my head snaps in the direction of the sound.

We're standing just under the light of a street lamp, and the first thing that is illuminated is one long, tan leg.

"There you are." A tall, slender blonde appears, and I suddenly feel the rage that has subsided erupt inside of me.

"This is Rosalie," Emmett says.

 _HERA!_

"You must be Bella," she says in a saccharine voice. "It's such a pleasure to meet you."


End file.
